Two Women
by LadyofDodge
Summary: He unlaced his fingers from hers and asked, "Kitty, what can I do to fix this? How can I make it right?"  An ATC for "Matt's Love Story."


**Two Women**

(An ATC for Matt's Love Story)

A cold air found its way through the chinks in the uneven brick walls of the marshal's office. The lawman shivered on the narrow cot and pulled the rough blanket tighter around his massive shoulders hoping that sleep would come, but knowing that it would not.

In his lifetime he had known only two women—real women—women who were smart, competent, confident, and capable of holding their own in a man's world, yet possessed of such bewitching femininity that even the most resolute of men succumbed to their charms. Two women. And in the course of a single night, he had unwittingly wronged them both.

He shifted on the hard bed, trying to find a comfortable position, and considered the irony. As Dan, the man he had been in that Arizona valley, he could not remember Kitty Russell, the woman he had known so intimately, loved so passionately for eighteen years. As Matt Dillon, the man with memory restored, he could not forget Mike Yardner, the woman with whom he had lived for only a few short weeks, with whom he had lain for but a single night.

Outside the office door, loud laughter and dual voices raised in drunken song told him the Lentz brothers were making their way home from their Saturday night on the town, the night noises of the city contrasting sharply with the quiet solitude of the ranch.

The ranch. He sighed and squeezed his eyes tight.

**x**

_The morning she asked his name, his inability to answer had sent stark fear shooting through his body. When he was able to stand and shave himself, a nameless face stared back at him from the mirror. He could see the man's reflection, but the man was no one he recognized. _

_With no clue to his identity, no knowledge of who he was or where he lived, he settled into a routine of sorts. As soon as his ankle healed sufficiently for him to hobble from the bed to the door without his face turning ashen with pain, she set him to doing some of the lighter chores about the ranch—scattering grain for the chickens, gathering eggs, hoeing the garden, snapping beans and slicing vegetables for their supper. As he went about these mindless tasks, his brain churned—seeking a thread, searching for a memory, anything that would give him a hint as to who he was, what he was, where he had come from, where he was going. Nothing. He was a man with no history—a man alone. _

_For nearly a month his world was bounded by that valley, the only home he knew. Mike Yardner the only person he knew. She nursed him, she fed him, she gave him shelter. And she gave him comfort, for in her voice he heard warmth; in her eyes he saw understanding. _

He blew out a breath and bunched the pillow under his head. She had done exactly what Kitty might do under similar circumstances. And he had responded exactly as any injured man might respond to Kitty's ministrations. He turned to her, and that night in her arms he hadn't felt quite so alone.

He groaned and punched at the pillow again. I didn't know, damn it. I didn't know!

**x**

Tonight marked exactly a week since he had ridden back into Dodge, exhausted in body, weary in mind, and defeated in spirit. Exactly a week since he had last set foot into his favorite drinking establishment. Exactly a week since he had seen her. Exactly a week since he had told her.

_Upstairs in the privacy of her rooms, he led her to her favorite chair. Pulling the overstuffed ottoman to its edge, he sat down in front of her. With elbows resting on his thighs, body leaning forward, they were almost on eye level. He entwined his fingers with hers and softly, methodically, worked his way through the series of events that had transpired from the time he left Dodge in pursuit of Lester Dean to his return that afternoon—nearly eight weeks later. H__e spared nothing, the shooting, his injuries, the loss of his identity papers and his memory, and the rancher—the woman—who found him, nursed him back to health and saved his life. In a voice__ so low she had to lean forward to hear, he made his confession. "I slept with her, Kitty. It was only one night, but I...I didn't…I swear I didn't know it was wrong. I'm sorry, Kitty, so very, very sorry."_

_She didn't cry, she didn't scream, she didn't slap him; she didn't even withdraw her hand from his. But the hurt, the betrayal in those beautiful sapphire eyes cut him to the core as no words or recriminations ever could._

_"Okay, you've told me. Now please leave, Matt, and don't...don't bother to come back."_

_He unlaced his fingers from hers and asked, "Kitty, what can I do to fix this? How can I make it right?"_

_White-faced and trembling, she replied. "I have no idea." _

**x**

Tonight had brought the usual crowd of ranchers, farmers, cowboys, bankers and merchants out for an evening of drink, poker, and gossip, and, as usual, Front Street was the focal point of the evening's activity. After early rounds to ensure that all was well at the Lady Gay, the Bull's Head and the other saloons that dotted the town, he could no longer put off a stop at the Long Branch.

From behind the batwing doors his eyes scanned the boisterous crowd, and he saw her there, posed against the bar, beer mug in hand, facing the crowded room. She was wearing a low-cut dress of dark green silk that set off both her figure and fiery hair to perfection and sent his senses reeling.

His long legs, as if on a mission of their own, pushed through the throng and carried him across the room where he joined her, assuming an old familiar stance, back pressed against the bar, a mug of beer in his left hand, his right arm stretched along the pocked surface of the bar behind her.

They didn't speak directly to each other, but stood together, chatting with friends, watching the gamblers, the dancers, Sam and Rudy fiddling and strumming their way among the tables. With the palm of his right hand resting on the edge of the bar, his long fingers reached out as they had thousands of times before, to gently rub her silk-clad back. He felt her body stiffen at his touch, and he mentally cursed his stupidity. But before he could pull his hand away, he felt her relax again, leaning easily against the warmth of his hand. Encouraged, he touched her again, and, from his towering height, he smiled as he watched a faint tell-tale flush creep across the tops of her creamy breasts. When at last the evening came to an end, and the final customer was ushered out, he walked with her to the door. "It was a nice night, Kitty."

She nodded.

He stood hesitantly for a minute, not sure what to say or do, but she spared him the embarrassment with a quiet, "Good night, Matt."

"Night, Kitty," he said softly and stepped out onto the boardwalk.

A moment passed.

"Matt!"

He turned, hope clear on his tired face.

As she stepped toward him, he saw that the blue eyes lifted to his were shining with tears. She pressed her palm against his chest. "Just give me time, Matt…give me a lot of time."

He nodded once and tenderly traced the line of her jaw with the back of his index finger. Then he turned and headed down the boardwalk toward the jail. Had he the courage to look back, he would have seen her standing in the lamplight, the warm, salty tears she had resolved not to shed, coursing down her cheeks.

**x**

The milk cart rattled outside the office, the early morning sounds of Front Street drowning out the soft tap on the door. He grunted and twisted once more before he heard it. "Matt, are you in there?"

He untangled himself from the blanket and crossed the room in two strides. "Kitty, is that you?"

"Yes. May I come in?"

He opened the door and stared down into her pale face, partially obscured by the hood of her cloak. He grasped her shoulders, virtually lifting her into the office. "Kitty, what are you doing here at this hour? Are you all right?"

"I'm fine. I…no…no, I'm not. I just…we need to talk, Matt," she stammered.

"Here? Now? It's 3:00 in the morning."

"I know. I...I couldn't sleep."

"There seems to be a lot of that going around." He led her to a chair at the table. "Shall I make some coffee?"

She shook her head. "No, thanks, but could you light a lamp so I can see you?"

He struck a match, and together they watched the faint glow spread across the room.

"What's going on, Kitty?" He pulled out another chair, straddled it, and sat down facing her.

"I…well, I haven't been very fair to you." Uncharacteristically tentative, she paused.

"Go on."

"Matt, I…I want you to know that I do understand about the amnesia, and I believe what you said—that you had no memory of me or anything else. I believe you, honest I do. But, the thing is, the thing that's hardest for me to accept is that…well, Dan used your body to…to…."

He spoke as her voice trailed off. "You're right, Kitty. Dan did use my body, but he didn't use my heart. And he didn't use my soul. Those still belong exclusively to you, Kitty. They always have, and they always will, for as long as you want them."

For the second time that night, he watched tears begin to well in her eyes as she continued. "I don't know how to deal with this, Matt. I can't hate you because I still love you—just as much as ever. I can't be vengeful and blame you because _you_ didn't do anything wrong. I can't even take the high road and forgive you because, again, _you_ didn't do anything that calls for forgiveness. Just what the hell am I supposed to do—how am I supposed to feel?"

He started to reach for her, then stopped. "Is it all right to touch you?"

She nodded, and simultaneously each took a step forward and walked into the other's arms, each savoring the long-denied touch, each relishing the scent and feel of the other's body.

"Kitty, I wish I could answer your questions, but I can't…and I can't tell you how sorry…"

"Don't." Her fingers touched his lips to silence them. "It's over, Matt. It happened, and there's nothing either of us can do about it, so let's not talk about it anymore." She smiled up at him, but sadness still shadowed her eyes.

"I guess that's all I wanted to say, Matt. I had to say it—had to tell you how I feel—or how I don't feel. That's the thing. I can't feel. I can't feel anything."

"You will, Kitty. You will. Take your time, take all the time you need. I'll be right here."

She nodded again. "I guess I better be going. Feel like walking me home?"

"Uh, I can't Kitty. I have to stay here." He ran his hand through his already tousled curls. "I have two drunks and a small-time thief locked up in the back. I gave the boys the night off because….well, I gave them the night off."

She gave a weak laugh. "Well, at least some things never change. Get some sleep, and I'll see you tomorrow—or later today. And, Matt, I really am glad you're all right—and that you're home again." She turned her face up to his, and, a minute later walked down the boardwalk with the taste of his lips still clinging to her own.

His eyes followed her from the doorway, watching to make sure she got safely home, and when she rounded the corner to the back stairs, he closed the door and again lay down on the unforgiving cot, lighter of heart than he had been in weeks. At least for a moment.

**x**

"_You remember. Everything?"_

_He nodded. "Mike, I'm sorry. I've got a badge, responsibility. Twenty years of my life."_

"_Twenty years and you never got married? She must have been some kind of woman."_

"_I'll come back. We'll talk about it."_

He groaned as he remembered. Why the hell had he told her he would come back—that they would talk about it? There was nothing left to talk about. Those ten little words said it all: _"I've got a badge, responsibility. Twenty years of my life." _

**x**

"_I want you to know something, Dan. It ain't easy to find two good men and lose 'em both."_

_He called after her, but she didn't look back. And he watched her ride away until horse, rider and dog were but a puff of dust on the horizon. _

A man doesn't easily forget a woman like that.

**x**

But he had to forget, for he had spoken the truth. He had responsibility. To his badge. To his town. And, most of all, to the woman whose lilac scent still wafted through the dark room. He turned over and ran his tongue along his lips, tasting her sweetness as he closed his eyes.

**The End**


End file.
